


You Lead, I Follow

by they_hear_the_music



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, but like without the sad ending, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24823138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/they_hear_the_music/pseuds/they_hear_the_music
Summary: “You came for me,” Jon says behind him. “I didn’t think you would.”Martin doesn’t waver in the slightest but he suddenly feels twice as tired. “I know.”
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 11
Kudos: 173





	You Lead, I Follow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blacknovelist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blacknovelist/gifts).



> not the fic i'd thought id finish next but then [Novel](https://blacknovelist.tumblr.com/) talked about orpheus and eurydice and while i only have a passing knowledge of greek mythology ive been on a hadestown trip rn anyway sooooo here u go!  
> also my 50th fic!! yay :D

“You didn’t need to do that, you know,” Jon says and Martin would have laughed, if it wasn’t for the way Jon says it. Gone is the usual perpetual abrasiveness, the defiant pout, the self-assured dismissiveness hiding any hint at Jon’s doubts, that maybe he might not be the arbiter of all knowledge after all. No, the words come out quiet and hesitant and thick with emotion. Martin would give a lot to be able to just turn around and see his face, see the expression he is making. But he knows he can’t. Jon says it like he wants to know why Martin would wander into the Underworld for him, risk everything just to beg Hades and Persephone for his life. Like he had been sure Martin would never do something like that for him. Martin can tell because he knows Jon, has cataloged every aspect of him. He has seen the parts of him Jon shares freely with the world and the parts that shine through despite himself, the good and the bad. And Jon didn’t expect Martin to come because Jon knows nothing about Martin.

“Yeah,” Martin says, his voice raw from all the talking he had done. “But I did anyway.” 

It comes out more tired than he intends it to, the exhaustion after days of worry and determined storming ahead with no regards for the consequences are finally catching up with him. Days of living in a world where Jon was gone, Martin remembers with the same icy feeling of loss gripping his heart, even if just for a moment. And it’s not over yet, he reminds himself. They still have to get out of here.

“Yeah,” Jon whispers, more to himself than to anyone else. “You did.” 

His words are still heavy with the same question that Martin has no intention of answering. Jon gets to figure that one out for himself, not that Martin ever expects him to. That is kind of the point of them, he thinks. Unchangingly Martin writes poem after poem, song after song and story after story, all in unfailing admiration for his muse. And Jon will criticize them all and tell Martin about how he doesn’t understand the point of trying to put feelings and impressions and moments into pictures painted with words, when they’re so subjective and uninformative to begin with. All while sitting there, forever unaware to the fact that the words inspired by the muse Jon is rolling his eyes about have been, are and always will be about him. 

And that’s alright. Martin has made his peace with that. 

“You came for me,” Jon says behind him, clearly unable to let this go just yet. “I didn’t think you would.”

Martin doesn’t waver in the slightest but he suddenly feels twice as tired. “I know.”

“When I saw you in front of Hades,” Jon says, lost in his own thoughts and talking to himself as much as he is still talking to Martin. “I… I was so…” He trails off, but Martin can fill in the rest.

“Surprised?” he says, going for light and breezy but unable to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. “Careful Jon, if you keep insisting on how unexpected it is that I might be a decent enough person to come save you I’ll get offended.”

He is only half joking. 

There is a beat of silence, only interrupted by the crunching sounds of their footsteps where Martin kind of expects to hear Jon huff in annoyance. Same old, same old, and all that.

“Worried,” Jon says instead, his tone still soft. “I thought you were there, because you had passed away like me.”

Oh.

That does take Martin aback a little. He hadn’t considered that this might be the impression he could be making, storming into the Halls of Hades. His mind had been too focused on the Save Jon At All Costs Plan. He doesn’t really know what to do with the idea of Jon’s heart breaking just a little like his had, when he had heard about Jon’s passing. So instead he is quiet letting the silence stretch between them. The need to turn around and look at Jon is unbearable but Martin doesn’t give in. Minutes pass, easing the tension with every footstep they take, as they leave behind all the things neither of them seems to be keen on actually saying. 

It’s rare for Jon to not speak his mind with reckless sincerity, often interpreted as rudeness by the people around him. Not feelings though, Martin knows. Jon has always been abysmal with communicating his emotions, although that's usually because Jon is not exactly great at knowing his own feelings. But this quiet feels different, like he knows exactly what he wants to say but not how to say it. Or maybe Martin is projecting. He’s probably projecting.

And suddenly the silence is weighing on him and he wants so badly to see Jon, see he’s there and alive. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. Not yet.

“Man this tunnel goes on forever, doesn’t it? How much further do you think we still have to go?” Martin asks with an awkward chuckle, more just to say something and break the tense atmosphere still clinging to them both.

“I don’t know,” Jon says and he sounds more like himself again, self-assured and exasperated at Martin’s meaningless babble. “I think that’s rather the point, wouldn’t you say?”

“I guess it is,” Marin says and drags his hand through his hair. And that’s gonna be that, Martin guesses. 

There is a beat of silence again.

“It is rather monotonous though,” Jon offers and Martin can hear that little half smile reserved for only the people Jon is truly comfortable with in his voice. Maybe Jon destests the quiet of only the gravel moving under their feet as much as Martin. He can't help but chuckle. 

“Yeah, the king of the Underworld should really, you know, splice this place up a bit,” he says. “Some paintings, maybe a food vendor-” It’s not funny but Martin is laughing anyway. It’s been such a long, long day and the absurdity of it all is catching up with him. Behind him he can hear Jon’s own short, breathless laughter. “Lord of this whole domain and can’t even make proper use of the space,” Martin continues, barely able to speak through his own laughing fits. Jon is shushing him, broken up by his own quiet involuntary sniggering.

“Martin, he’ll hear you!” he barely manages to say. 

“Yeah,” Martin laughs. “Gods forbid, he’d get some- some _unsolicited decorating advice_ -” He interrupts himself with giggles.

“Who knew you could be so blasphemous,” Jon says, his smile audible in his voice. 

“Yeah, because I’ve been so god-fearing up until this point,” Martin retorts, still a little breathless. “Marched into hell, but like in a god-honoring way.”

As soon as the words are out, Martin regrets them a little bit. He hadn’t meant to bring back up the severity of what they both had gone through in the last couple of days. Jon is quiet behind him and Martin knows that ultimately this is going to be something that they will have to learn to be casual about, if they ever want things to return back to how they had been. But that doesn’t change the fact that the lighthearted fun they had just been having has completely been dispersed, leaving a subdued atmosphere behind. 

“Thank you,” Jon says gently. “I think I might not have said it yet, with everything that's been going on.” He hadn’t, but then again, Martin also didn’t need him to. He had walked into hell for himself just as much as he had done it for Jon. The loss- It had been more than Martin had been able to bear.

“Thank you for coming for me,” Jon says, soft and once more overflowing with those unsaid emotions Martin can’t name. He can feel Jon’s eyes on him and Martin bites his lip, trying to focus on the road ahead but unable to see it. It takes him a moment to realize that his eyes are swimming in tears and he is unsure which of the many harrowing experiences he’s recently gone through his body is even responding to right now. Martin takes a deep, watery breath. 

“Any time.” The words fall out of his mouth betraying too much yet sounding so trivial, that Martin can’t help but let out a short laugh at that. Or maybe it’s a sob. He can’t really tell. 

Behind him Jon is quiet, as Martin takes a deep shuddering breath and then another, ever marching on through the tunnel they’re in, his head lifted up to the dark ceiling blinking away the water in his eyes. 

“Martin,” Jon says, what feels like an eternity later. 

“Sorry, Jon,” Martin says immediately. “It’s been a long day and I-”

“Martin,” Jon interrupts and Martin closes his mouth with a click of his teeth. “Could you walk a bit slower?”

Oh.

“Listen, Jon,” Martin says, trying to keep the sudden pang of irrational hurt out of his voice. “I know my legs are longer than yours, but we really need to-”

“Please,” Jon says and, okay, it’s not like Martin isn’t going to give this man everything he asks for when he sounds like that. He slows his pace somewhat, waiting for Jon to presumably catch up. A small petty party of him remains annoyed that he had just almost been crying and Jon presumably hadn't even noticed. 

“Okay,” Jon says and his voice is close. “Don’t look back.”

“I wasn’t gonna-” Martin says before the voice dies in his throat when Jon’s cold and only partially corporeal fingers wrap themselves around the palm of his hand, tucking it back so Jon can hold his hand while they walk. Martin looks ahead with intensity, forcing his brain to focus on step after step, as they continue their way through the endless caves leading out of the Underworld. He wants to hold onto Jon’s hand with all his might but his fingers would just go through Jon’s, he knows that, so he lets his hand hang there, with the light, chill touch of Jon’s skin on his own being everything and not nearly enough. For once in all the years of crafting words and stories Martin has no idea what to say. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe Jon will know how grateful he is for this without Martin having to tell him. 

When they walk out of the Underworld hours, days or maybe years later he can feel life and warmth flow into Jon’s hand, still holding onto his. And when Martin finally, finally looks at him, Jon is smiling and he’s not letting go, his fingers tightening around Martin’s.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated and im [here on tumblr](http://they-hear-the-music.tumblr.com) please come and say hi c:


End file.
